


Barroom Buddies

by genagirl



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genagirl/pseuds/genagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And evening out with the boys brings Jim's mind into sharp focus -- on his Guide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barroom Buddies

Disclaimer: Jim and Blair aren't mine, these cuties belong to Pet Fly. I returned them unharmed when the borrowing period ended. Not beta. Sorry.

Barroom Buddies

by

Gena

Jim Ellison sighed and wondered what had ever possessed him, why had he accepted Ricky Daniels' invitation to join him and the guys for a few brews? He'd known even before he said yes he wouldn't enjoy it and here he was nursing only his second Coors and wishing he was at home with Blair.

With Blair. Okay, so that was the reason he was here in the first place, he could admit that now. Blair Sandburg wasn't a cop, he wasn't a detective, he wasn't a burned-out soldier, he wasn't an aging gym rat or a man drifting on down draft of his career. He wasn't any of the things the guys he was with right now were. Maybe that was why Jim missed him. Ellison had done a lot of thinking in the passed few weeks about his partner, about the things Blair wasn't, and decided he should spend some time with the men he'd known before Blair had entered his life to see if he, himself, had changed.

Dave, Bill, Bob, and Ricky were regular guys. They wouldn't know a Zulu tribal war dance if it was performed on the bar. They wouldn't give a rat's ass about the effect of food production on ancient cities unless it effected the supply of pizza coming their way. They liked their beer cold, their women hot, and their lives uncomplicated by deep thoughts. And before his senses had gone haywire, Jim Ellison had thrown his lot in with them and spent many nights sitting where he was now, the corner booth of O'Brien's , shooting the bull. Dave and Ricky worked Vice and could always be counted on for steamy stories about the kinks Cascade's citizens had. Bob and Bill, Jim had met at the gym, both were ex-army now working in security. All five men had enjoyed O'Brien's traditional atmosphere; the dark, wooden booths, the country tunes on the jukebox, the bright neon lights and cold draft on tap. For several years it had been a weekly ritual to meet at the bar and trowel on the bullshit.

A chance meeting with Ricky had prompted Jim to make it that Friday night. Since hooking up with Sandburg and working on his Sentinel abilities, he'd only rarely met the others at the bar. To tell the truth he hadn't felt the need for his former friends' company, Blair seemed to fill that department quite well. But Ricky had been insistent and, knowing he'd feel stupid telling Ricky he wanted to spend the evening watching his younger roommate grade test papers, Jim had agreed. More and more often Jim had found if he stayed in the loft his eyes drifted to Blair, studying the student in whatever activity he was engaged in and lingering most of the night. Blair was such a fascinating creature, so alien and unlike anyone Jim had ever known.

Sandburg had breezed into his life and shaken it from its foundations, knocking down walls and pulverizing barriers like some kind of hyper-kinetic bulldozer. He'd refused to be intimidated by Ellison's tough guy act, he'd stood nose to nose with the angry cop the first day of their meeting and told Jim exactly what was wrong with him. Of course, Jim hadn't believed him then, not even after Sandburg had risked his own life saving Ellison's. Blair's theories were so...so out there, that Jim had preferred, at least for a little while, thinking the kid was insane. A lot had changed since that day.

Blair still came up with some doozies, but now Jim realized his partner's methods were chosen to specifically fit Jim's own needs. They made a great team, Jim with his special talents and Blair with his intuitive control. Without Blair Jim was still as good a detective as he'd always been but when Sandburg was beside him, he could focus his senses, knowing Blair would keep him from zoning out. His partner's presence calmed Ellison, kept him centered on the task. Only the threat of danger to his Guide could knock Jim's concentration and send his senses plummeting out of his control. Sandburg's safety had become paramount to Jim, he'd do anything, fight any battle, face any odds, to assure himself Blair was unharmed.

So overpowering was Ellison's instinct to protect his friend that he'd had to distance himself from Blair just to keep from constantly reaching out to touch him. Sandburg didn't seem to mind, he never reacted beyond a resigned sigh or annoyed swat whenever Jim tried to assess some injury or express his relief at their being alive after an ordeal. Each time they survived a situation Ellison found it harder and harder to keep his feelings, much less his hands, from Blair. He'd taken to reassuring himself of his partner's well-being from the safety of the other side of the loft. He'd find his mind wandering from the Jag's game and the next thing he'd know Blair would look up and smile into his eyes. The breathtaking sight of his friend's expression would send Ellison reeling, he'd look away or pretend he felt nothing more than amused tolerance for Blair's presence in his life. The uncertainty of Blair's reaction kept him silent, he couldn't risk losing Sandburg's friendship by confessing desire. The depth of his feelings, had been the main reason he'd accepted Ricky's invitation. He had no one to blame but himself for having to endure LeAnn Rimes' greatest hits, enough passive smoke to give his whole family lung cancer and his companion's assessments of every other person in the bar. 

"She is a dog," Bob was hissing in Bill's ear. The object of their scrutiny was a plump woman in her mid thirties standing at the bar. Jim focused his sight on her, seeing a plain woman with red hair and freckles, when she turned her brown eyes were friendly and her smile open. Ellison offered the social smile of a fellow human being but kept the contact brief. The woman disappeared in the crowd and Jim turned back to the others. He was no judge of male beauty, but none of the four struck him as particularly great prizes. Dave had a gut like a pregnant elephant while Bill sported mutton-chop sideburns Elvis wouldn't have been caught dead in, if he'd been dead. Both Bob and Ricky were solidly built but Bob had less hair than Jim and jagged holes where fights had taken their toll in teeth and Ricky had a scar which made the left side of his face look like a detailed map of downtown Cascade. None of them could have compared with Sandburg; his partner's brown curls and wide blue eyes drew stares of appreciation not horror. Jim could have described his friend's full lips and high cheekbones in great detail, pointing out how it all added up to an exotic kind of beauty only rarely found in nature but the little voice in his head was telling him to shut up.

"...and that one," Ricky said, nudging Jim's ribs with a sharp elbow, "I wouldn't go home with her unless she came with a protective bag!" The rude laughs aggravated Jim's already pounding headache. He wanted to go home and talk to Blair, he wanted to figure out what was happening between them. Sandburg had given him time and space, allowing Jim to retreat without pressing him for reasons, but Jim knew it had to stop. He had to voice the things roiling around inside his head and let Blair explain them, Sandburg had always had the answers before, Jim didn't doubt he'd solve the puzzle this time. 

"Well, well, well," Dave chuckled. "Look at that one." All eyes, but Jim's, followed the cop's pointing finger. Ellison didn't need sight to know who had just entered the bar, he could tell by instinct, every sense he possessed screamed Blair's name. He could hear his friend's heart beating above LeAnn's plaintive wails, and smell the subtle scent of his partner's shampoo and cologne over the stench of stale beer and sweat. "Is that a boy or a girl?" Dave continued. His question brought peals of laughter from the other men at the table but Jim could feel his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands.

These people had been his friends? What the hell had he been thinking? They were a bunch of arrogant, red necks with nothing to offer anyone but attitude. Intellectually, Sandburg could have wiped the floor with them and emotionally he wouldn't have risked hurting others with careless comments. 

"Whatever it is," Bob offered with a toothless leer, "it's pretty. " Ellison raised his head, finding his partner at the bar. Blair ordered a beer, the long line of his throat pale and inviting in the garish light as he swallowed. The sudden desire to place his fingers against that warm flesh and stroke softly swepted Jim to his feet.

"Where you going, Ellison?" Bill asked. Jim tore his eyes from Blair and gazed down at the men staring up at him expectantly. The man he'd once been would have sat there and listened to them boast and blow, he might have even joined in, but the man he was now couldn't. He had nothing in common with these guys anymore, and had no desire to try and pretend. What Jim wanted stood only yards away, drawn to this noisy place by some instinct to share Jim's life. Ellison shot a glance in his partner's direction and saw Sandburg moving his way. The short legs and wild clothes made him look younger than his twenty-eight years and Jim couldn't help but smile. The answering smile on Blair's face warmed his heart and made him reach out a hand as the student stopped beside him.

"Hey, Chief," he greeted, "I was just coming to find you." Jim's hand slipped up Blair's arm and wound around his shoulders, pulling him into a one-armed embrace. He felt Sandburg snuggle just a bit closer before giving him a questioning look.

"Got bored at home and thought I'd see what you were doing," Blair looked at the group of men Jim had been sitting with. Four curious faces were appraising the Sentinel and his Guide, but Jim didn't seem to notice. He reached his free hand up and patted Blair's stomach.

"I wasn't doing anything," Jim told him, "let's go home." Ellison didn't even spare a backwards glance as he steered Blair out of the bar. Those guys were his past, a man who no longer existed had known them. He was different now, he had a purpose and a Guide. He had Blair beside him and that made his life complete, he needed nothing more.

"Lucky bastard." The words floated in the air, spoken by a distant voice and heard only by one man. Jim smiled and looked down into the blue eyes sparkling up at him. Lucky bastard indeed, he thought to himself. 

\---

End


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